Finding Nowhere
by A.N. Clara
Summary: Alfred Jones, a single father in 1950s America, moves to a little town in hopes of escaping his past in the big city. There he meets the town's bookshop owner, Arthur, who has a talent for making Alfred's daughter happy. Knowing any relationship would be impossible and dangerous, Alfred must make another difficult decision. 1950s AU. USUKUS. Rated M for smut
1. Chapter 1

Madeline simply would not play along with me, staring out the window, yet refusing to tell me what she saw. There were plenty of new things to look at, but she could not care less about that. She was so moody lately, definitely not in the mindset needed to enjoy discovery, and I couldn't help but to try to cheer her up. It never worked. I felt like a failure as a father.

"You have to see something," I stated. She ignored me. "Do you know what I spy?" No response. "I spy... something beautiful–no, I spy the _most_ _beautiful _thing I have ever seen."

Madeline glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and sighed. "It's me, isn't it?"

"How did you know? I just knew you'd be good at this game."

"You're so weird, Dad."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "When did this whole 'Dad' thing start? I was Daddy just yesterday."

She returned to looking out the window at the sleepy little town we were going to call home, obviously displeased with it already. I wished it didn't have to be this way. Madeline and I were no longer welcome where we came from, so this was the only option we had. We had nowhere else left to go. I wish I could make her understand.

"I'm really hungry," Madeline announced quietly as we entered the town.

She never complained unless she truly meant it. It had probably been hours since she first realized she was hungry and was too polite to mention it before. I was so caught up in the move that I wasn't in the mood to eat and must have also forgotten to feed her along the way. Now I knew I was an awful father.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll find somewhere to eat soon, I promise."

Soon took longer than I thought. Every building in the town looked like it was built for the same purpose, rundown, rectangular buildings from the beginning of the century, converted into something not so outdated, or new factories that produced the latest must-haves. Nothing looked nearly as friendly as it attempted to with its peeling bright paints, sun-faded awnings, and the familiar faces of product models you could find in every city in America, only from five years ago. I was seriously reconsidering this relocation until I looked at Madeline and knew that I had to keep her safe no matter what. We would be happy here if it killed us.

After driving around for what seemed like forever, we came across a building that appeared out of place: a tiny bookshop. It was a two story standalone, unattached to the establishments that sat beside it, and the top floor must have been an apartment, for the curtains drawn shut to keep wandering eyes out. From what I noticed, it was the only relatively new building around. I figured whomever owned the shop should know where to find a diner around here, and I would much rather ask them than any of the other people I had yet to meet. Something about this place in particular seemed genuine.

We parked in front of the store and Madeline insisted she stay in the car. She would not give me an answer as to why she wanted to sit outside, but I gave in, knowing that it was the least I could do for starving the poor girl. I ventured into the foreign land alone, praying that there was a place to get some food around town as I was a terrible cook and there was no woman in my life to do so for me. This experience would be very interesting indeed if I had to learn after twenty years of eating hamburgers from the restaurant down the block.

Upon entering, I was pleased to see that the inside of the building was a diverse as the outside. No two of the bookshelves were exactly the same; some of them tall and thin, others short and fat. Each one of them was constructed of a different type of wood, the colors varying depending on material and the finish, and some had rounded corners, or sharp edges, which set up the feeling that the store was in a state of organized chaos that I enjoyed already. The books themselves were neatly alphabetized by Author's last name and appeared to be regularly dusted as everything was utterly spotless. I pondered what a strange person must run this shop, deciding I liked them already.

"I swear to god," I heard a man say in a threatening tone from behind one of the shelves. This was followed by a commotion of books falling to the floor, which he swore at under his breath.

"Are you alright there?"

The sound of the man picking up the books ceased. He peered around the corner with a scowl in place, his large eyebrows knitted together between his eyes in frustration. Other than the caterpillars on his forehead, the rest of his face was pleasing to look at. He was actually very handsome, his green eyes breathtakingly luminous. His ears were also pointed a bit at the top, partially hidden by his messy blond hair, which made him resemble a magical creature, perhaps an elf.

Once he saw me, his mouth fell open and he began to apologize. "Please forgive me. I didn't hear you come in."

"No, it's fine. Are you okay?"

The man appeared to think about it for a moment. "Yes, thank you." He had a British accent and did not smile, not even a bit. I wondered why that was. "How may I help you?"

"Actually, I'm new to town and wanted to know if there's somewhere nearby I can grab a bite to eat."

"Absolutely. Diane runs a little place not too far from here. It's the only restaurant in town. I can point it out to you, if you'd like."

"That would be just dandy, thank you. My name is Jones, Alfred Jones."

I held out my hand for him to shake. The angry book elf perked up a bit as though most people wouldn't offer him a friendly handshake upon meeting. If they didn't, that was awfully rude of them. I had no idea why he reacted this way. He firmly grasped my hand and pumped it once, dropping it after we both lingered for a second. My stomach started churning when I met his eyes.

"I am Arthur Kirkland."

"Arthur Kirkland..." I hadn't meant to say it out loud. He looked startled, ready to run back to his elf life amongst the books. I had to cover. "It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Jones."

"Please, call me Alfred."

We maintained eye contact for a long time–it was perfect. Arthur must have not thought much of it. Men were so odd during this time that it was strange to meet someone like him. There was a fine line drawn between friendly and being one of those homos, so it was especially difficult for me to remain on the side society told me was okay. It seemed Arthur had a rather hard time with that as well.

I remembered Madeline was sitting in the car then and I knew I couldn't do this to her again. This was our last chance to live an ordinary life. If I messed this up, it was all over.

"Ha-ha! Look at us, acting like a bunch of queers! Let us find that diner, huh?"

I said this so easily it hurt. Others had called me that, and worse, my entire life. Saying it in nonchalance made my very skin crawl. It seemed to make Arthur uncomfortable as well, though that is exactly how white American men spoke during this time. I pondered why it would bother him, letting it go before I thought too much about it.

We exited the book store in silence, my otherwise ordinary comment killing all conversation. Madeline sat up a little straighter in her seat, seeing I had another man with me, and she hopped out of the car without me asking her to do so. She brushed off her dress, putting on a shy smile.

"This is my daughter, Madeline," I prefaced.

"Hello, sir. It is very nice to meet you." She behaved so much better than I had at her age. I was very proud of her.

Arthur got down on one knee and bowed to her. "You didn't tell me your daughter was a princess. I have never met a princess before! Hello, Lady Madeline. It is an honor to meet your acquaintance."

Madeline grinned and blushed, too shy to respond to the compliment. She simply nodded to acknowledge what he said. Arthur had made her smile more in two seconds than I had in weeks. I was jealous, but also incredibly happy. My heart beat a little faster. The angry book elf made the light of my life happy.

"So you can see my dilemma, Arthur. I have yet to serve the fair princess dinner and she is quite famished."

Arthur smiled for the first time at Madeline. "We ought to feed you, then. Come, princess, I shall take thee to the finest eatery in the entirety of the kingdom."

My daughter's eyes lit up, her expression full of awe and delight. She took Arthur's hand and he led us to Diane's, which was settled on the corner less than a city block from the book store. Several of the letters on her neon sign had burned out, spelling the ominous word "die", and a shudder ran through me. I began hoping I didn't make a huge mistake in coming here. No one else seemed to notice, nor did they care.

Arthur and Madeline talked about fairies and dragons and other fantastical things that she seemed to enjoy immensely. She asked him questions about river nymphs, who were her favorite, wondering if this town happened to have any. Arthur hummed and tapped his chin in thought.

"You know, I haven't the foggiest idea if we we have any nymphs," he said, much to Madeline's disappointment. "Perhaps we can go looking for some another time. I never thought to search for nymphs before."

Madeline nodded fervently. "Oh yes, please! They are so lovely! Daddy told me so."

Arthur glanced at me with the corner of his lips turned up. "Did he, now? What could he possibly know about nymphs?"

"He knows plenty!" Madeline defended. "He said they love to play, but only with each other and little girls they really like. I've never played with them, though. Daddy says it takes them a very long time to decide if they like someone."

"That is true. They are truly very shy."

"He told me that they used to play with my mother when she was a little girl. Do you think that's true?"

Arthur suddenly realized that there was no woman around that could possibly be Madeline's mother. He frowned at me. I had no time to explain the situation to him, but he managed to save the moment.

"Of course I do. If your mummy was half as charming as you are, she was the nymphs' very best friend."

I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Arthur handled that much better than I ever could have. Madeline beamed proudly, extremely happy that her father not only told the truth, but that her mother was friends with her absolute favorite thing on the planet. Arthur continued to look sad. We arrived inside Diane's not a moment later and he began to excuse himself.

"Nonsense," I said. "Please join us for dinner. It's been too long since Madeline and I met someone new, and we're going to be neighbors now. We can get to know each other."

Arthur looked unsure. For the sake of being neighborly, however, he reluctantly agreed. We took a booth in the run-down diner with both Arthur and I on one side, Madeline on the other. She requested to have her own seat so that she could talk to both of us at the same time. Surprised by how quickly she had opened up to a stranger, I could hardly argue with her. Madeline was a timid girl that had a difficult time making friends. Far be it from me to scorn her for finding comfort in the stories of an incredibly handsome book elf. I didn't mind sitting next to him either.

A middle–aged woman with kind eyes and deep laugh lines approached our table, greeting us first, then Arthur. "Who are these fine young people you have brought in today?"

"Diane, this is Lady Madeline, our new princess, and her father, Alfred," he explained with an added wave of his hands.

"I didn't know we had a princess!" Diane exclaimed, pressing a hand over her heart. "Welcome to our town, princess. What can I do for you?"

Madeline gave me "the look", her blue eyes growing wide in pleading. I sighed, but told her to go ahead. She deserved whatever she wanted tonight.

"May I have pancakes, please," she whispered with her eyes cast down.

"Why, sure, sweetheart. You can have all the pancakes your little heart desires." Diane turned to me.

"I'm not hungry just yet. Some coffee will do just fine."

When she came to Arthur, he held up a hand. "No, thank you. I've already eaten. Perhaps a spot of tea, though?"

Diane rolled her eyes in a joking manner. "I'll get right on it. Holler if you need me."

Madeline was looking at us in a way that made me uneasy, and I think it had the same effect on Arthur. He put a little more distance between us, sitting on the edge of the bench. When I asked Madeline what was wrong, she shrugged, giggling quietly. There was no hope. She was very good at keeping secrets and actually took pride in it. Even if it was her secret alone, sometimes I would never find out what it was. I brushed off my discomfort.

"How long have you worked at the book store?" I asked, hoping that would ease us back into a conversation.

"I have owned it for a little over a year now. The last owner was moving out of town when I was moving in and asked if I would take over for him. Seeing as I had nothing better to do, I agreed."

"So, the bookshelves...?"

"They are dreadful, aren't they? Not a single one matches another."

I shook my head. "I think they give the place character."

"I thought Americans believed that only the military grants character," Arthur remarked.

"Some more than others. I couldn't imagine sending my child to war." My darling Madeline looked up at me with fear in her eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart, only boys go to war."

She was soothed by this. Diane brought out our drinks and set them down without a word. We let them be for the moment.

"What is it that you do, Mr. Jones?"

"Alfred," I corrected. "I was a stockbroker in New York. Now, well, I don't know what I'm going to do now."

Arthur's eyebrows came together once more in puzzlement. "Why did you leave New York?"

I panicked, even though I had a story planned out in case anyone asked. My pulse skyrocketed and my hands began to sweat. "It was time for a change. The city is no place to raise a child. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Madeline nodded in agreement, though she hadn't been paying attention. She only came back to reality when her pancakes arrived and she poured nearly half a gallon of syrup on them. I didn't have the heart to scold her. Arthur just smiled a bit.

I began to prepare my coffee, stirring in sugar first, waiting for it to all dissolve as Madeline devoured her pancakes. Arthur started on his tea. We both reached for the cream at the same time and our hands brushed together, but neither one of us pulled away. I blushed and cleared my throat, removing my hand. I didn't dare look at him.

"Uhm, you go ahead."

"Thank you..."

I was doing it again. It was too early to ruin this chance, but I liked Arthur. He was an angry elf of a man that was capable of making my daughter happy. For some reason, he did not react the way most other men would either. I had my fair share of experience with those who needed to prove their masculinity after bumping shoulders with someone of the same sex. Arthur only appeared a bit embarrassed by the contact, but never tried to cover it up, nor did he start to flirt with the passing waitress to regain some semblance of manliness.

"Arthur," Madeline said sweetly after finishing her pancakes, "are you married?"

Arthur coughed a bit, the question making him nervous. "Why, no, Madeline. I am not."

"Why not?"

His eyes grew wide with panic. Right as he was about to answer, I cut in. "Now, Madeline Williams, that was awfully rude."

She covered her mouth with her hand, looking mortified. "I am dreadfully sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to be rude." She glanced at Arthur as a sinner does God.

"It's alright, princess. I just moved her not too long ago, you see. I haven't had the time to find a wife."

That was the same answer I always gave anyone who asked. He had to be lying. Anyone that "hasn't had time" simply has not been looking. People were getting married left and right; men and women who hardly knew each other but wanted to become a normal member of society. It was expected of you to settle down and have children as soon as you could. Having Madeline, there was less pressure on me to do so, but pressure regardless. How had Arthur gone so long without being married?

"I want you to be my Daddy."

That stung me. Arthur was flattered, but he knew how badly that hurt. "You already have a father and he seems to be a very good one."

"No, I want you to be my Daddy, too. You don't have a wife and neither does Daddy. You can be his wife."

Living with a seven-year-old in the 1950s was difficult, though not nearly as difficult as it was when you had an open-minded little girl like Madeline growing up in the oppression. Arthur chewed on his lip and looked around, making sure that no one heard what she had said. I took her hand in mine across the table, giving her the most stern look I could muster in my embarrassment. This beautiful little girl was going to be the death of me.

"Daddy is going to have a serious talk with you later about this, okay, sweetheart?"

Madeline had the fear of God struck in her. She nodded, repentant. "Okay, Daddy."

I was concerned enough about my own behavior as it was. Now I had to worry about Madeline saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. I never wanted her to become something I hated, but apparently it was time to teach her how to be a "proper" child. It pained my heart to even think about teaching her those awful words they called me, turning her into an intolerant drone of the system. She deserved so much better than that.

The rest of the meal consisted of dull conversation about the town and nearly anything that would not lead us back to my obvious attraction to Arthur. He was nervous, though no more so than I was, and we made it to the bill, which I paid, without another awkward silence. Arthur tried to pay for his own, reaching for the check that I held out of his reach. When our hands touched again, neither of us blushed; we were too busy arguing. My gut felt like it had been twisted, a dishcloth being wrung out.

When Diane took my payment and I turned to asked Madeline if she was ready to go, I found her curled up on the seat, out cold. I wished I could sleep like that, remembering the days when me and my brother could and would fall asleep literally anywhere. She did not even stir when I lifted her up and rested her head on my shoulder. It had been a long day for us all.

We walked back to the bookshop, Arthur and I conversing quietly about the weather and whatnot. He offered to let us stay in the spare bedroom above the shop for the night since the truck full of our furniture had yet to arrive. There was a tension in the air, something unresolved, and he was too polite to bring it up until I had Madeline tucked into bed.

Arthur sat next to an open window and delicately lit a cigarette, puffing white smoke until the end blazed a bright red. Every movement he made had the fluidity of water. His body was slender and pale, especially at the wrists, and incredibly attractive without meaning to be. He looked at me, green eyes glowing through the curtain of blond. An eyebrow was raised at me.

"Fag?"

"What?" I questioned, slightly offended, but more anxious at what the word implied.

Arthur appeared confused. "Oh, that's right. You Americans don't call them that. Terribly sorry. Do you smoke?"

Relief flooded me, and I nodded. Arthur tossed me a pack and a lighter. I lit the cigarette, praying it would calm my nerves. We remained in silence for several moments until he was overcome with concern.

"Why does Madeline have a different surname than you?" he asked with the hand holding the cigarette blocking his mouth.

I had not noticed that I slipped up with that. With an annoyed sigh, I leaned against the wall and ran a hand through my hair. There was no sense in hiding it. "She's actually my niece."

"Then why on earth does she think you're her father?"

"My half-brother, Matthew, and his wife died in a car accident when she was only a few months old. Their wills declared me her new legal guardian because neither of them had very much family. So, that's where she came from.

"God knows I wasn't ready for a kid. When she started calling me 'Dada', I didn't know what to do. What do I tell her? Do I admit to a two-year-old that she's an orphan? She doesn't even remember she had parents. How do I explain that she is different from all of the other little girls who have a mommy and a daddy at home? I thought it would be easier for her if she at least had a father. Maybe it was just easier for me."

Arthur tried to come up with an appropriate response. "That's very kind of you."

"No," I admitted. "It's selfish. I treat her like she is my own daughter, but I have to lie to her everyday. She asks about her mother a lot. I have told her everything I know about her. It isn't nearly enough. Madeline wants to know everything. 'What's her favorite color?' 'Did she like ice skating?' 'How did she like to do her hair?' God if I know! I met the woman only a handful of times."

"She's a fine young lady," he said. "You have raised her very well. I'm surprised."

"Why? Because I'm loud and idiotic and –"

"No; because you're a man." Arthur said this with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. I looked at him as he stared at the ground. "I thought men were incapable of raising children to be compassionate, kind human beings. You've surprised me."

I wish I had something to say to that. No one had ever told me I was a good father before and I was shocked.

He put out his cigarette, grinding it against the ashtray that sat upon the windowsill. It was only half gone. Arthur noticed me staring, meeting my eyes with a vague sense of interest, his lips twisted into a sad smile.

"You know, they're saying these things cause cancer. If they are right, I suppose it is time to give up the habit."

Arthur said nothing more, deciding that he had enough excitement for the day, then bid me a good night. I felt like I had not spent enough time with him, even though we had met a mere few hours ago. He was something new and exciting, someone I needed to know more about. I, too, let my cigarette burn out.

When I entered the spare room, Madeline was awake. She smiled at me with the lidded eyes of an angel. "Hi, Daddy. Where's Arthur?"

"He went to bed."

"Are you both mad at me for saying you should marry him?" She seemed genuinely upset.

"Of course we aren't. That is just... something we shouldn't say around other people. You can always tell me anything, sweetheart, but some people don't understand things like that."

Madeline blinked, thinking this over. "I like Arthur. Would you marry him?"

I couldn't begin to explain to her how impossible that would be and how much I wish I could. "You know what? One day, maybe I will. But don't tell anyone, okay? I want it to be our secret."

That got her. She would never tell another living soul now. "Do you think my mother would like him?" It was only a matter of time before that question came up.

"I think your mother would like him very much. She always loved angry book elves."

"Arthur is an elf!?" Madeline exclaimed in joy, instantly perking up.

I laughed and put a finger to my lips. "Don't–don't tell him I said that. I can't be sure, but I think so. That's how he knows so much about the fairies and nymphs."

"But Daddy! He's a _real_, live elf!"

"And it's time for you to go to bed. Tomorrow is another long day. We have a lot to do."

"Will Arthur come with us to the new house?" Madeline was not going to let this go.

"Maybe he will. You can ask him tomorrow."

We went to bed shortly after that, Madeline continuing to ask me questions about Arthur and if any of the other people in town were magical creatures. She finally fell back asleep as I tossed and turned. It was impossible to sleep now. I was hungry and so tired I could not even think of sitting still.

If I was being honest with myself, what truly kept me awake was the idea of Arthur staying just a room away. He was most likely asleep, his spellbinding eyes closed for the night, dreaming of whatever it was that actually made him happy. I wanted to see him–had to. He needed to rest, though. My chest constricted and I could hardly breathe just thinking about him.

Realizing my attempt to sleep was halfhearted at best, I got up a while later to sit in the living room so I wouldn't wake Madeline with my restlessness. Arthur was sat on a chair next to the window, a large, worn book in his hands. Apparently he had also been unable to succumb to the night's comfort and had the same idea. He looked up at me with a question in his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep. This move has been so stressful I find it hard to do anything but think about it."

"Are you going to tell me the real reason why you left?" he asked with no hint of accusation. "I can already assume, but I'd like to hear it from you. What is it that you're running away from?" Arthur was far more perceptive than I was, more than I gave him credit for.

"Are you writing a book?" I snapped. "The only thing I'm running from is big city life. I told you a child had no business growing up in New York."

"You're by far the worst liar I have ever met. It's because you like men, isn't it?"

I stuttered out a denial.

He closed his book and set it on the table next to him. "Come now. You haven't taken your eyes off of me all night." This was a statement and nothing about it could be argued. "The only time you looked away was when you thought you were seen."

"Arthur, I –"

His voice dropped to an alluring whisper. "If you weren't so busy trying to curb your own urges, you might have noticed I was looking at you the same way."

I stopped. Had he truly said what I thought he did? He smirked in a way that made my heart ache. Arthur curled his finger; there was a devilish look in his eye and he wanted me to come closer. I was hooked before he could say another word. It had been so long since I was with a man I had forgotten what it felt like to be overcome with desire for someone. Without any inhibitions holding me back, I fell to my knees at his feet.

"Do you know how long it's taken for someone like you–like me–to come to the god forsaken town?" His tone was low, seductive, almost silent.

I was reminded of my sleeping child in the next room, the reason we moved to this town in the first place. "Arthur, I came here to keep Madeline safe."

He nodded slowly, tilted my chin up, and looked me straight in the eye. "Then don't do anything to get us caught." He pressed his lips to mine and I was gone.

I made a promise. "Okay..."


	2. Chapter 2

I am blessed to have so many amazing readers and astounded to have received more reviews on the first chapter than I had on any of my other stories for a long while. Thank you to my guest reviewers, who I could not respond to through PM, and another to those who I've already thanked. You all are incredible.

My laptop is currently broken, so updates will come even more slowly than they already were. Hopefully I can get it fixed soon. Until then, enjoy this quick chapter.

Amelia F: You are simply adorable. Thank you so much for being my first reviewer.

Cocoa: If you start shipping USUK, I think I'll die. I've never received such a beautiful compliment.

Guest: This story is actually an AU I asked permission from another user to borrow and then gave it my own twist. In 1950s America, being gay in a big city, like New York, was essentially suicide. Once others found out about your sexuality, you had the potential to be severely beaten or killed by homophobic persons. I will go into that and more in later chapters. Thank you for your question, and I hope I'll be able to answer it more fully throughout the story instead of telling you flat-out.

OutToGarden: here's your update, you spoilt brat. :)

Honhonhon: It's about to get a whole lot hotter.

**Rated M for explicit sexual content.**

* * *

><p>Arthur was kneeling between my legs, having knocked me to the ground with an iniquitous look in his eye. He had pinned my arms above my head with a single hand, something I would be able to get out of rather easily being much stronger than he was, but found I didn't want to. I closed my eyes as he began biting the skin along my jaw so that I squirmed beneath him. Whenever I did something he liked, arching my back or turning my head so that he would have better access to my neck, he would reward me with his other hand that continued to journey down my torso. Arthur's fingers traced the zipper on my pants, humming in interest when he discovered I was already getting hard. I whined in a whorish way, rather loudly, catching myself and correcting my volume.<p>

Arthur chuckled, breath tickling my skin. His voice permeated the silence a fraction of an inch from my ear. "You're a screamer, aren't you?"

"Of course not! What am I, a woman?" I grumbled back. Why did I think he would believe me?

He moved his hips upward with a slow, even motion and moaned softly in my ear. I responded with a sound of equal desire, in a much higher volume. Arthur sat up, having proved his point, and releasing my arms, stared down at me for a moment. I wanted to wipe that sexy little smile off his face when I took him right there on the floor. Arthur shook his head as though scolding me for my thoughts. His expression promised he had something underhanded in the works. I should have been ashamed for hoping this was true.

"Ground floor. Now." With that he stood up, loosened his tie without breaking eye contact, and let it slip slowly through his fingers like sand until it fell to the floor. He turned away without another word, disappearing down the stairs.

I propped myself up with my elbows, staring in the direction he went in disbelief. If Arthur had anything to say about it, this was going to be a long night. Wanting nothing more than to have my way with him as soon as possible, I nearly sprinted down the stairs, only stopping to look for him amongst the looming bookshelves in the blackness. The night was left unlit as there was no moon in the sky, and the large window in the front was as dark looking out at the street as it would staring into the bookshop. I had no idea how Arthur could find his way around when I could barely see the outline of my own feet as they shuffled forward.

Maybe he was a book elf after all. I was amused by the thought of Arthur being able to communicate with the books through some sort of telepathy, making clever literature jokes that only he and the books found funny. He didn't appear to have many friends, so this image made me happy. At least he wouldn't be so alone in this bookstore by himself. I was already starting to worry about him.

A flicker of light burst to life in the back of the shop, bathing the room in a shade of tangerine. I followed it.

Arthur stood next to a short table that was covered in books, all of them neatly stacked by what I assumed was topic, knowing him the little I did. A single candle was lit off to the side, casting shadows along the walls and across his face. He looked between me and the organized set up, appearing conflicted. Apparently the books caused a moral dissension to arise within him and I immediately hoped that he hadn't changed his mind about me. I wanted to know what went on in that pretty little head of his, especially if his thoughts had anything to do with me.

"Lord knows I wouldn't normally do this," he said cryptically. Then the sly turn of his lips reappeared and it was like he no longer cared.

With an unreal grace, Arthur swiped the books off the table, appearing quite pleased with himself for doing something completely out of character. They scattered across the carpeted floor with a muffled protest. He motioned me forward; naturally, I complied. I was unprepared for the moment he slammed me against the table with more strength than I knew he possessed, pressing his body between my opened legs. His mouth found mine and we were kissing in a way that would have made me blush had I not been actively participating at the time.

Undressing him felt like it took an eternity. He was less focused on that, and more on kissing me, nipping at my lip, and clutching onto my sweater as I tried to pull his off. I was whining quietly as I could manage when his hand trailed down, stopping at the growing erection in my slacks. Arthur made a sound, the cross between a growl and something else I could not place, something primal, exciting, and his fingers danced around the area I most wanted him to touch. He was a sadistic lover, taking more pleasure in my pain than anything I could ever do to him.

I needed to touch him. He allowed me to remove his sweater and then my own, tearing my hand away from the buttons of his shirt underneath.

"Patience," he scolded.

Arthur forbade me from taking anything else off. With a wicked smile, he kissed me slowly, passionately. I wanted it to end, yet I longed for my torture to continue on forever. He had a way of making it hurt so good.

Arthur unbuttoned my shirt, one agonizing motion at a time, rocking his hips into mine with each successful attempt, obviously enjoying my misery. My hands gripped his waist, nails digging into his sides when he did something fantastic. I bit my lip so I would not beg, wanting desperately for his hands to get low enough that they would meet my needs, knowing Arthur was going to take his time getting there. He slowed more as he drew closer to the bottom. An exasperated groan left my mouth. Arthur paused with his fingers approaching the final button, the one on my pants.

"Don't wake the baby," he whispered seductively. Before I could respond, Arthur had taken a turn on his knees, freeing my cock through the opening of my pants. For a second he froze, glancing up at me with a raised eyebrow, a surprised but pleased expression in place. "Perhaps I need to worry about waking her myself."

That I blushed at. Arthur ran a finger along my length to torture me further, but also taking a moment to appreciate the stranger that he stumbled upon. When he finally opened his mouth to take me, he started at the same pace with which he unbuttoned my shirt. He began with his tongue, licking where he thought I would respond best to, though this sort of teasing did not last as long. I think his resolve was breaking down. That, or he was concerned I would not last long enough for the real fun to commence. He was correct in assuming so.

With his lips surrounding my head, he began to slowly take more of me into his mouth, using his teeth to his advantage instead of treating them like an obstacle. I had only known them to be painful when one didn't mind what they were doing. Arthur knew exactly how hard to press down so that I was clutching onto the edge of the table and whining obscenely. He turned his amused laughter into gentle hums; I could have screamed. That is exactly what he wanted.

I had known many skilled men back in New York, but Arthur was something entirely new. He refused to give in to my demands, the things I wanted most, and focussed on what would bring us both pleasure in the long run. When I came too close to the edge, he would pull back, though not entirely so that all of his work went to waste. Every time I tried to fist his hair, pulling him toward me in a rhythm that better suited my preferences, he would nip me like a mutt, giving me a look that said he threatened to bite it off. I learned very quickly that Arthur was most definitely in charge.

Once Arthur was satisfied, and I absolutely ready to be, he returned to standing so he could kiss me, wrapping a firm hand around my cock as a reminder that he was the one in control. He stroked me at an unsteady interval with periods when he would stop completely or speed up to a pace that I was perfectly content with. I wound my fingers in his hair and kissed him back with restrained groans and sighs that I tried to make as quiet as his. It did not work in the slightest.

"I'm going to fuck you until you can hardly stand," he growled when our mouths parted, tightening his grip around me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I flipped us around so the small of Arthur's back dug into the edge of the table instead of mine.

"No," I said, "I'm going to fuck you right here, right now."

He was still smirking as though he still commanded the power. Perhaps he did. "That is more like it. I almost thought you submissive."

Arthur released me to remove his shirt and I pushed my slacks to the floor, kicking them away and moving on to his. He tossed his top aside while I began tugging off his boxers, prepared to treat him with the same wonderful cruelty he showed me. I admired every inch of his pale skin, delighting in the idea that I could touch it, all of him, just as I had spent the entire afternoon fantasizing about. Arthur must have been thinking the same thing about me as he stroked my chest, pushing the unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, and allowing his fingers to follow the curves of my body. His eyes had a faraway look about them. It was as though he was looking at someone else. I didn't like it.

"You don't plan on leaving anytime soon, do you?"

I pulled him close to me by the waist and with our hips pressing flush against each other, I kissed him sweetly, unlike before. I was throbbing, and God it was unpleasant how badly I needed release, but felt I had to lessen both of our fears first. It wasn't as though I did not share his reservations.

"Not if no one finds out about this."

He nodded, though he did not appear to be paying attention. The sudden shift in emotion concerned me until the seductive Arthur returned with a vengeance. "I recall you promising to take me against this table _now._"

I turned Arthur around, pushing his chest onto the table and spreading his legs with my knee. "Is this what you're looking for, Mr. Kirkland?"

"I've had better." He chuckled softly. "Promise not to be too gentle? I'm no child, Alfred."

"I am starting to think you're the homosexual they warn people about. 'Sexual deviants and communists, all of them.'" I believe that is the exact phrase my father used before discovering his favorite son was a queer.

"Sod off and fuck me already."

I began stretching Arthur with my fingers, accustomed to being gentle with my past lovers, and he complained, claiming I was taking far too long. He insisted he could handle it without receiving "virgin" treatment. Arthur was impatient and brash, but I loved it. For someone who spent twenty minutes torturing me, he hated being on the receiving end. Though I wanted to prolong his sexual agony for as long as possible, I couldn't hold out any longer.

"If you're going to take all night—"

Pushing into him slightly, Arthur was silenced. Or rather, he was preoccupied with grunting. I was careful not to injure him, though he did not appear to care much for that, pulling out for a moment. He was still, waiting for my next move. I pulled his head back by the hair.

"I don't want to hurt you," I whispered. "But you leave me no choice."

"It never should have been an option in the first place."

With that, I finally took him. I still had him by the hair so that the sounds he made were in my ear, desperate little things that would have brought me pleasure even if I didn't have the luck of fucking him. Every inch of his lovely skin, slicked with sweat, was pressed against mine. When he tossed his head back with a sigh of my name, I kissed his neck, tasting the salt accumulating there. Neither of us would have realized it started snowing outside mere feet away when it was hotter than the hell we were going to burn in for all eternity.

Arthur rolled his hips into mine -something I was learning he was very good at- thinking that it would be enough to finish me off. He was mistaken. I reached for his cock, beginning to work him hard and fast. If he was going to turn this into a race, it was only polite to let him come in first. We were making a slew of lewd noises, and I was coming close to tearing my lip off, I was biting it so hard to keep quiet.

"Stop silencing... yourself," Arthur panted. "I want to hear you."

I slowed nearly to a halt. "What about -?"

"She can't hear a thing. Best part about these hideous shelves? The room doesn't echo."

That was all the confirmation I needed to moan to my heart's content. With every thrust I grew louder. Arthur was getting off on listening to me almost as much as I was hearing him. His breath came quicker, sharper, than before. He was clawing at the table only to be met with nothing to grab. I was the fortunate one, having every part of him to hold as I pleased. My favorite, of course, was the one throbbing in my hand.

"Do you... call this... fucking?" Arthur was approaching his end and terrified of letting me think he was actually enjoying it. He was always so snarky, even when we made love. Then again, I doubt this constituted as love of any sort. "I've been taken... better by mere boys!"

I hooked my chin over his shoulder and fucked him with more vigor than I could recall from my younger years. Arthur grit his teeth, enduring the pain so that he would reap the reward that always came after, allowing me to do as I would until either of us finished. Luckily for him, I would never leave my lover to cum on their own. Even though I came first, crying out Arthur's name for the world to know, I continued to touch him through my orgasm until he reached the same sweet bliss. He gasped as though it came unexpectedly and then went limp when it had passed, lying on the table like it were the county's most comfortable mattress.

He didn't say anything for a few moments after I pulled out of him. I think it might have had to do with the panting to get enough air. Arthur turned to me as I licked his cum off my hand and he appeared to be intrigued. He actually smiled.

"I hope that was to your liking, Mr. Kirkland," I said between breaths.

Arthur gave me a curt nod, then another after he thought about it. He was still at a loss for words as he dressed.

"Are you okay, Arthur?"

Another quick nod. He kept a small smile in place, so I wasn't too concerned that I injured him, though I hadn't a clue what was going on in his mind. By the time he had all his clothes back on, I was worried he hadn't liked it. I would be more upset if I found out that he didn't like me.

"Uhm, well, thank you for that, Alfred. It was... lovely." Arthur was at the foot of the stairs, his back turned to me, when he added, "We should try it again sometime."

With a newly adopted, awkward gait, he dashed up to the second floor without looking back. I was left wondering what in the hell that meant as far as our future together. Were we even together? If it was only sex, I was doomed. The second I saw that angry book elf, I knew I was in for a wild ride. Ha, if only I had known how crazy life was about to get with Arthur.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter wasn't meant to be so short, but I wanted to get it posted by the end of today for my birthday.

Amberleysz: Hello, Amberley! This is Ashley from the U.S.. Thank you so much for your review. It brightened up my day! I hope you like everything else I post as much as the first two chapters. I look forward to hearing from you again. :)

JollyBigSis: If it's seme, it's not me. All relationships are based on give and take and I have rarely heard of anyone being a "true" bottom. I'm glad you liked what I did with Arthur's characterization as well as the chapter as a whole. I shoot for realistic, and I hope I achieved that. I'll try not to disappoint you in the future as well.

To all of my lovely Anons: Thank you for your reviews! You are all so sweet and and I have no clue where you came from, but I love you.

Last but not least, my own angry book elf, OutToGarden: you're right. I should have! Now shut up and enjoy your new fucking chapter. (I already know you're going to yell at me for this later ;) ) I love you.

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><p>Arthur never told me what his name was—the man he thought about in those moments when reality eluded him, if just for a second, when his face would change for an instant like a burst of static on the television set. It wasn't as obvious at first. I didn't know him well enough to discern the faraway look he took on from his normally aloof personality. It didn't take long. Whoever he was, I hated him. I hated that whatever happened, whatever he did to Arthur, caused him so much pain that he'd be hit with the memory like a locomotive, except without the telltale wailing beforehand that warned you of its approach.<p>

At times Arthur was so distant that I wasn't sure he was even there. Physically, he was; mentally, I could tell he was gone. All the lights were on upstairs, but no one was home. I didn't pry in the beginning because it was none of my business. After spending a few waking hours with him, however, I began to understand why he had a difficult time making friends with the other people in town. He would slip away from the world for a while and return periodically as though that's what normal people did. I knew he only pretended to be happy most of the time. What I wouldn't give to make him actually smile.

He helped us move into our new house a few mornings after our tryst in the bookshop, though I assured him it was all being handled by the movers. I lied, of course, so he wouldn't be bothered with it. Madeline, my precious little girl, hadn't noticed any change between Arthur and myself, and begged me to let him come along anyway. How could I say no to her? Especially when the angry book elf and I had made love every night since our arrival. We definitely shared several sidelong glances over the course of the day, which if I was right, and I knew I was, meant it was going to happen again tonight.

It was nice to have the company, if nothing else. The house was too big, I realized rather quickly, and it was bound to get lonely with only Madeline and I living here. I hadn't even looked at the property before putting my bid on the house—a price far above what it was worth to ensure I snatched it up—since we had so little time to get out of New York and I was regretting it already. The furniture from our apartment couldn't stretch to fill even a quarter of the space available. We had more than enough money to last us out here for awhile, at least. Some of it could go toward new things, maybe a television or a radio; anything to fill the emptiness with life.

I hadn't lied completely. The movers did unload our things from the truck. Boxes full of what we owned were stacked amongst the pieces of furniture, decorating the front lawn like ugly Christmas presents. All we had to do was everything else. Arthur, with a pointed look of disappointment in me, took to transporting the boxes Madeleine couldn't carry and I set to moving the really heavy things, all of us stumbling around, and in to, each other more often than not. Progress was slow going and Arthur bitched occasionally. I secretly liked it. It felt like we were a family. An unconventional family, but one nonetheless.

Madeline shyly tugged on my sleeve, asking for my attention. I set the couch in place and looked down at her. "Daddy, where's my room?"

"Take any one you want, princess. There are plenty to choose from."

She nodded fervently, taking off up the stairs to pick a room, though I knew she already had her heart set on the one in the far back that overlooked the brook behind the house. Arthur came up beside me with a box in his arms. He stood there for a moment and watched my daughter dart toward the exact room I knew she wanted. She nearly ran smack dab in to the door, she was so impatient to go inside. Both of us chuckled in unison.

"She is a decisive little one," he said with a little humor.

"Just like her father." We both knew I was talking about Matthew. "She's convinced the fairies will finally visit her if she picks the right room."

"She's right."

There was nothing about that sentence that led me to believe he was joking. He turned and walked away without another word. I stared after him. Arthur always said things that made me think he actually believed in that stuff. Were I to discover he did, I wouldn't be surprised in the least. He was a strange man and all the little oddities I came across became part of his charm.

My eyes wandered down so that I could watch his backside as he walked from the living room. There was something about him I found unusually attractive that made it so I couldn't look away from him for more than a few moments at a time even if I tried, which I didn't. Arthur knew this and reveled in it. He liked to pretend otherwise.

"If you would kindly, take your eyes off my arse, Mr. Jones, or you won't be getting it tonight."

I put my hands up in defense. "When you stop looking like that—actually... No, not even then. I don't think it's possible."

He glanced over his shoulder, smirk in place. "I'm serious." His pointed ears were tinged red, though, and the blush hadn't the time to reach his cheeks.

I threw my hands out and I must have resembled a cross. "So am I!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and continued on his way, ignoring my attempt to be somewhat romantic. I didn't know if sex equated a relationship, so I was taking it by ear. Even though the constant fucking was wonderful, I sort of wished we could sit down to dinner and talk like normal people. We weren't normal, however. The world believed something was terribly wrong with us because we "chose" to love men instead of women. Sometimes I thought they were right. When I looked at Arthur, though, it was different, and I knew that it couldn't possibly be wrong. If somehow it was, well, I didn't want to be right.

We took a break for lunch around midday. Madeline begged to have a picnic in the backyard, a fancy meal of homemade sandwiches and green-bottled coke, hoping to scope the area for any fairies while the adults rested. I told her it was too chilly for that sort of thing, but she insisted that the snow hadn't stuck, so it wasn't _that_ cold. The only magical creature I wanted to look at was the angry book elf sitting across from me, so I left her to it. While my daughter turned rocks over with a stick in an attempt to hunt for gnomes and whatever else she was convinced she would find, I watched Arthur with the same innate curiosity.

His already messy blond hair was gently ruffled by the same calm breeze that rippled the creek nearby. The sun bathed his pale skin, and I somehow knew it would not get any darker, discovering I was glad. I loved how different our skin looked when pressed together in the heat of passion, hands on the waist, fingers tracing a face. He observed the passing clouds overhead with eyes a dragon would covet. I imagined they were the same color of the grass in spring, but I honestly couldn't remember what it looked like. Every time I tried to think about the little tufts of green or the brightly colored wildflowers, I was bombarded by images of Arthur instead. It was unlike me to complain about that. Arthur's lips turned up at the corner like he could hear what I was thinking and it took my breath away. He looked like something out of a storybook. It amazed me, even now, that he was actually real.

If he knew I was staring at him, he didn't let on. I wanted to card my fingers through his hair or kiss his forehead softly so that he'd snap at me and probably hit me as well, but I could not. Things like that led me here, which wasn't quite so bad now that I'd met Arthur. It was things like that that would get me sent away from him too, or worse. Also, I still had Madeline to think about and I knew she was already so much happier here than she had ever been in New York, even though she was not pleased to move in the first place. Her joy truly gave me life. I could not bear to take that away from her now. So secretive I would be, even if it killed me.

As much as I wished I could watch him forever, my elf observations had to end. Madeline's face was getting red and puffy from the cold and the last thing I needed was for her to get sick. Having warmed up a bit from hopping around from rock to rock, she took off her coat, which I knew would be a fight getting her to put it back on. She saw the way I looked at her, knowing what it meant, giggled quietly, and started running. How did I know?

"Maddie! You come back here this instant!"

She looked behind her for a split second, but continued on anyway. Arthur chuckled. He wouldn't be any help. The sick bastard loved watching me struggle in any and every way. That meant I was on my own. I got up and started after her, knowing that I could only catch her if I was smart about it.

"Princess, Daddy's getting too old for this!"

"Good! You can't catch me, then!"

Sometimes I hated exactly how much like me she turned out to be. Why couldn't she always behave like Matthew did? Sure, she was quiet and polite most of the time, but occasionally she became a raging nightmare. That was definitely my fault. At least she wasn't doing it out of spite. Maybe she just wanted attention and knew I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to chase after her. Madeline was apparently a manipulative little girl. She had inherited that from me somehow.

Arthur sat back and watched my attempt to catch her, which wasn't going over too well. She was fast and full of energy. I'm sure she could go on like that for hours without tiring. Me, however, not so much. I was already huffing and puffing like I'd run a marathon. Damn, was I out of shape, but I had longer legs and a slightly more advanced intellect than she did. One day, I wasn't so sure I'd have these advantages.

I stopped with my hands on my knees, gasping for air like I'd been drowning instead of running. Madeline was a few yards ahead of me when she halted. There was a grin on her face. She thought she had won and was ready to begin gloating. I glanced at a space behind her, face one of awe, and said nothing for a few moments. Her eyes widened.

"Daddy, what is it?"

I didn't respond. It took every ounce of my willpower not to start laughing.

"Daddy, that's not funny. Tell me!" She glared at me. "If you see something that you're not tellin' me about..."

She was trying so hard not to turn around. Madeline started fidgeting, worried that I had spotted a fairy and she was missing it. She fell for it. As soon as she was facing away from me again, I sprinted for her, stopping short of tackling her to the ground. She squealed as I picked her up, squeezing her to my chest and kissing her cheek repeatedly. There would be hell to pay for that later, I knew. For now, however, Madeline was loving the attention.

"That's not nice!" She was shouting and laughing, too. She looked at Arthur, who was smiling to himself, hoping he would offer some support. "Arthur! Tell him he's mean!"

"Your father isn't mean, beloved princess. He wishes to escort you back to the castle before a dragon happens by and snatches you up."

Madeline appeared to understand what he meant, as though dragon attacks were highly likely this time of year. "Don't worry, I'm a brave princess," she said meekly, which told me the unlikely possibility of any of us having to fight off a fierce mythical garden lizard frightened her.

"Even brave princesses must be cautious. Let's get you inside. You've nearly played the day away."

For some reason, she always responded better to Arthur than me. It was probably because I was her father and he the mysteriously magical book elf. I suppose if one of her favorite things came to life and told her to jump off a bridge, she'd do it. Getting her inside should be nothing at all. Once again, I was grateful that Arthur knew how to handle my daughter better than I did sometimes. That must have been why having two parents was better than one, but I was definitely better than none.

All of that running had truly tuckered out my young princess as she fell asleep on the staircase on the way up to her room to unpack boxes. I figured she would need a nap soon, just perhaps on the bed I hauled all the way up there for her. Her cheek already had a crease in it from laying against the hard wooden edge as I picked her up and she hardly even moved. Living in the big city must have made her a little less accustomed to exercise as well. Arthur followed me into her room where I tucked her in to her unmade mattress on the floor. Once she woke up, Maddie would be wanting more playtime and then dinner, so I knew the only unpacking we'd get done is what Arthur and I did right now.

"She's a precious little ankle-biter, isn't she?" Arthur looked at Madeline so fondly I nearly thought she was his daughter.

"Now you see why I couldn't give her up. No one could ever love her as much as I do. Even if I'm not the best father—"

"You're a fine father, Alfred."

Arthur didn't deliberately look at me that often, but when he did, my heart exploded. His gaze shot through my chest and into my very soul when his eyes met mine. When he took my hand, I thought I had died and was born again in heaven. That couldn't be the case, I thought, or Matthew would be here too. So I guess I had found heaven on earth, then. I had given up on that sort of thing when the believers shunned me for loving another man, but maybe that had only happened so that I could meet my soul mate. I didn't know if my shaken faith could be healed that quickly after decades of fear and hiding. No matter what, Arthur was a divine gift I was lucky to receive. I would be sure to treat him as such.

He led me to a room far from Madeline's where he mercilessly took me on the floor, his hand pressed hard against my mouth so I wouldn't make a sound. It felt like it had been forever since he was last inside of me, though in reality, it had been less than a day. My name rolled off his tongue like the most beautiful melody in the world. I wished he could make out the rhythmic chant of his I had started, but his hand muffled every word until they were unintelligible moans. He must have understood the sentiment I was trying to express, as after we both came, he kissed me softly, uncharacteristically sweet of him. Arthur only did that every few days or so, and I cherished each one.

"Shall we finish now?" he asked, referring to unpacking the many full boxes lying around the house.

"I thought we just did."

Arthur rolled his eyes, something he did quite often, and dressed without trying to dignify that with with a response. He slipped away to that dark place in his mind after that for most of the night. We still laughed a bit here and there, but when Arthur left, he was really gone. Even when he pretended to be happy, and thought he was doing a good job at it, I saw right through the facade. I wish I could do something to help him, but it was hopeless. When I so much as hinted at a problem his mental state, he would shut down completely. If Matthew was here, he'd tell me that Arthur would open up when the time was right. But I didn't want to wait. I wanted to make Arthur at happy as he made me.

I never knew I was missing something until he and I made love. Then I was lost. Without Arthur, I wasn't sure I could live—I didn't want to. I did not want to even think about the possibility that I could ever lose him. Arthur was as much a part of me as my own arm. There are very few things I wouldn't give up for him. That included my life. I think I just might have been in love with the angry book elf.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I cannot believe this took almost 8 (?) months to update. I am so sorry! Life has been so hectic. Two new jobs, trying to figure out college, and several visits to see OutToGarden 3 I got a new laptop finally, so fingers crossed that I can crank out a few updates before I get too busy. Thank you for waiting patiently. I honestly didn't know it had been so long.

aphrodite931 - I am so sorry, hahaha. That's all I can say right now.

OutToGarden - I don't know why I'm even writing this for your review (except that you're my girlfriend - I love you - and also my best reader). HAHAHAHA ENJOY THE FLUFF WHY YOU STILL CAN :) I'm making more stuff happen. Better late than never, right?

Miztsi - Awe! Thank you so much!

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><p>"I've something for you. I had forgotten I even had this, but I knew you needed it as soon as I saw it."<p>

Arthur emerged from behind the bookshelf with a few bulky books in hand, one of them rather plain. I couldn't read the title, but it appeared to be new. He was smiling in the way that he did, not actually smiling at all. It wasn't so much an upturn of his lips as it was something you could see in his eyes. His happiness was a thing I never took for granted and maybe even cherished, so I looked for signs of it wherever they could be found.

He brushed the top of the stack off as though removing some dust, though I knew there couldn't possibly be any. Arthur ran a strict business. Dust be damned, his shop would always look pristine. I subsidized the happy expression he should have made with a grin of my own. It was very sweet that he had thought of me and I was excited to see what it was. Probably a little too excited, if I was being honest. The fact that he had thought of me at all made me happier than I'd been in quite a while.

Having a bit of alone time with another adult had become somewhat of a foreign luxury to me, and I never thought I would be so happy to send Maddie to school. It had been nearly two weeks of nonstop daddy-daughter time and I needed a break. Thankfully, the angry book elf didn't mind some company at the shop for the day. I feared I wouldn't have much room left in my schedule for Arthur once I started my job between the town's factories as an accountant, so it was nice to have a little quality time right now.

"Thank you, Arthur. How thoughtful of you!"

He brandished the cover so that I could read the _How to be a Good Housewife_ printed across the top. My face dropped and Arthur began to chuckle quietly to himself. I laughed a little, too, after the initial shock subsided. It was rather humorous, especially considering that it was Arthur who had done it. He didn't like to make jokes most of the time, so I treasured this moment. I thought him a very funny person when he actually cared to across the top. My face dropped and Arthur began to chuckle quietly to himself. I laughed a little, too, after the initial shock subsided. It was rather humorous, especially considering that it was Arthur who had done it. He didn't like to make jokes most of the time, so I treasured this moment. I thought him a very funny person when he actually cared to be.

"Come here, you," I said, inviting him to sit with me.

The angry book elf set the housewife book on the table but kept the other pressed into his chest. He sat on my lap and allowed me to kiss his cheek. "This is actually what I wanted to show you."

He gripped the cover in a way that blocked it from my sight and opened the book. Arthur flipped through the useless pages about copyright information and contents, skipping to the good part. His thin fingers danced across the page to the rhythm of a song I could not hear, tracing beautifully intricate illustrations that covered the entire paper. They depicted fairies in all manner of ways: dancing, sleeping, and other things it had been said they do with their time. When Arthur turned the page, there were more fairies to be found, and then mermaids and unicorns and all sorts of mythical creatures the farther he went into the book. I stopped him just as he was about to move on once again, seeing something that caught my attention for some reason.

It was a portrait of a beautiful blonde woman with skin pale as the moon, though considerably smoother. A golden crown of leaves was woven in her hair. Her eyes were such an odd shade of blue they appeared violet and I smiled at the resemblance to my little Madeline. Actually, she looked a lot like Matthew's wife with the same prominent cheekbones and long, thin nose. The woman in the picture had pointed ears even more prevalent than Arthur's. A caption beneath read: _High Elf - the most pure and powerful kind of elf_. I laughed to myself. Arthur had to be some other kind, then, for he was about as pure as the water found in a New York City gutter, in a sexual sense, of course. Madeline was going to eat this up, however.

"I thought _Madeline _would enjoy it," Arthur said in a way that made me think he was jealous of the drawing I was staring at. I didn't let the accusation go any further.

"This one looks just like her mother."

He touched the page with the caution of a man thinking he'd be burned. "She was a very beautiful woman." The words did not sound genuine coming from him. It was the truth, though.

"I don't have any pictures of her. Madeline always asks, and I just don't know what to tell her. The worst part is, at this point, I feel like Matthew never existed. His own daughter doesn't know about him and -"

Arthur shifted sideways on my lap and let the book fall closed on his. He kissed me once tenderly with his hand gripping my chin. "I think Matthew would understand."

"How would you know?" I asked, trying not to sound cross. "You didn't know him."

"I know because you are protecting his little girl - _your _little girl - from more heartache. You say she always asks about her mother and is disappointed when you don't have much to tell her? Well, imagine that, but if both of her parents were dead to her. There's only so much you can say about Matthew. You hardly knew him at all as an adult. What you could tell her about him would all be of a person that didn't exist anymore. Matthew was a grown man, not a little boy you grew up with."

He looked me in the eyes when he said this. I knew he was right - about everything. That made me realize that I knew nothing about Arthur's family. I suppose he could have one just like mine. My parents were still alive, though they condemned the "choices I made". Perhaps Arthur's were not supportive of him when they found out he preferred men and abandoned him as well. I would ask him someday, but not now. He would disappear like he always did when the situation became too personal.

"You're right," I admitted. "That is exactly what Matthew would say."

Arthur kissed me again to confirm he was, as always, correct. Being right was his favorite thing to be. I think he got off on that more than he did on me, which was concerning, but not in a way that I would actually have to _concern _myself with. He didn't surround himself with books to become the village idiot; that's for sure. Occasionally I worried he would realize I wasn't as widely educated as he was and leave me for some other hermit bookshop owner. That's usually about the time I remembered we were two queers living in a small town together. The odds of him finding another man that was even gay within a hundred mile radius was slim to none.

"I just wonder if I made the right decision. It wasn't the most... _common _path I could have taken."

Arthur was unusually quiet, which was never a good thing. I kissed his shoulder and wound my arms around him for some physical reassurance, but it was already too late. Arthur was slipping away from me again.

"Sometimes we do unconventional things to protect the ones we love." Arthur turned his face from me and began rising from my lap. He stopped a couple feet away, hugging the book to his chest, but refused to look in my direction. "And those things... they don't always seem to make sense. You say it's for the best, and - and they believe it because you're always looking out for them."

Arthur was getting progressively more upset. He trembled slightly as though forcing back a sob and clutched onto the book more tightly. It was his salvation. I got up to try to comfort him and Arthur stepped away from the hand I placed on his shoulder. There were tears budding from the corners of his eyes. I reached out to brush them from his cheeks and he glared at me so that even I was convinced I was the devil.

"Don't touch me!" he spit. His voice was lower now, but still full of venom. "Don't you fucking touch me."

"Arthur, let's talk about this. I don't understand. What's wrong?"

He made an expression of anguish that completely ripped my heart to shreds. "Just. Leave."

"Arthur-"

"Out."

How could I argue with him? We were in his establishment and something I did had upset him. Arthur had every right to kick me out, even if I didn't understand. Even if it sort of hurt my feelings. I shuffled out the door before he could throw something at me, half hoping he would call after me. He didn't. The door slammed shut, and the little bells I installed at the top, to let Arthur know when a customer was coming, made a sad jingling noise.

Before I had time to so much as collect my thoughts, I saw a man and his family approaching me quickly. I tried to ignore them by turning away and pretending I hadn't seen them trying to catch my attention. In my head, I prayed they would go away. They were persistent little buggers, increasing their pace slightly so that I'm sure the youngest had to jog a bit to keep up.

"Hello, neighbor!" The voice of the common American man rang out from a short distance away. "Jones, wasn't it?"

I wasn't in the mood to chat with someone after the lover's spat Arthur and I had in the bookshop. In his hurry to kick me out, he had forgotten to give me the book for Madeline and now I had to go back later to get it, and to apologize for whatever I did. Something told me that I had nothing to do with Arthur's freak out. I hoped that I was right about that, at least.

The man's footsteps grew steadily louder and I faced him properly. He was a tall German man with blond hair and blue eyes, and an identical family trailed beside him. I wondered how they got along in America after all the nasty war business our two countries were involved in. Then again, we were a more "civilized" nation now.

"Uh, yes. Jones. Alfred Jones." I shook the man's hand and then his wife's. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Each member stated their name and said hello, but I did not bother to remember them. I didn't want to meet them. Even I could tell that they tried to conceal their accents in order to fit in, though they did so rather well. They were a classic nuclear family with a husband, wife, and two children, a boy and a girl. It disgusted me how well they represented the era we were living in. I wanted to separate myself from them as much as humanly possible.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Jones! You have yourself a little girl about my Catherine's age, I recall. They'd have to be in the same class."

Had it really gotten so late that I forgot to pick Maddie up from school? I continued to smile at them, even after realizing what an awful parent I made, hoping I could edge my way out of the conversation and run to the school before my daughter began to worry. The man apologized for forgetting to introduce his wife and son and said their names as though they were written down for him to practice. I said a greeting to each of them.

"Say, pal," the man said, furrowing his brow behind his glasses, "what were you doing in that shop just now?"

I panicked, firstly thinking of how sore I was from all the sex Arthur and I had throughout the day. "What? This shop?" I pointed behind me at Arthur's bookstore in hopes the stall would give me time to think up a good answer.

"Of course! Where else?"

"Oh, I was looking for a book," I replied cleverly. I'd kick myself for that later. "My daughter adores reading."

The man eyed the place in a way that made me uneasy. He obviously didn't trust something about the bookshop. "I'd be careful around here, pal."

Something in his voice told me that he and I would most definitely not make good "pals". We were from very different worlds, if his hesitation was any indication. I already knew what he was going to say before I bothered to ask what he was getting at. Hopefully he would maked this as quick and painless as possible.

"Why is that?"

I looked back at the shop I loved and tried to stay cool. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His wife's mouth was pressed in a hard line as she ushered their children to play in the opposite direction of the building while the adults talked. They appeared as uncomfortable as I felt during the entire brief conversation. The man lowered his voice to a loud whisper, so the children wouldn't hear what he had to say.

"Well, buddy, you should know what everyone's saying about the guy that lives here," he began, and gave his wife a look that told me he was reluctant to even mention it around her. "There's been word that he's... a little off."

"'Off'?" I repeated. It wouldn't be hard to play the innocent newcomer that hadn't learned who would make a fine friend just yet. "How so? Don't tell me he's involved in any of that nasty Mob business. My daughter and I moved here to get away from that filth."

Americans were full of all sorts of judgments at the time. You couldn't be queer, black, or foreign in any way. Even if your parents were born here, if you had the wrong kind of mix in you, you were in for a rough time. Such was the case with the Italians. The Mafia had left a sour taste in everyone's mouths, and you couldn't trust anyone, even if they were white.

I was fortunate to be an obscure blend of all the right things. Arthur was lucky, too, being British. We Americans were all a bunch of suckers for an attractive man with an English accent. So long as they were our closest allies, the Americans and Brits would get along just fine. God knows a little too well in my case.

"No, no. Nothing like that, I assure you. You know, buddy. He just... doesn't fit in with everyone else. Likes to stick to himself mostly. We all leave him alone except for when we need to buy a book or two."

The man's wife finally added her two cents. She appeared excited to have something to contribute to the conversation. "All the girls I've spoken with said he's never been married and it doesn't look like he will be anytime soon."

I pretended to ponder that for a moment, but not too long. "He seems sociable enough to me these past few days. Maybe he's had it rougher than all of us. Marriage is a big commitment, after all."

That served to steer the conversation away from Arthur as my neighbors began to ask about my 'wife'. They received the same story I'd given Madeline time and again. We were married for less than a year when Madeline was born, and she passed away shortly after. I sold them the sob story about her being the only woman I could ever love, and finding a new wife would take a while. Perhaps I'd never find someone suitable enough. They assured me that I'd settle down sooner than I thought.

"It's about time, Mr. Jones. Your little girl is half grown. She needs a mother now more than ever," the wife said with a hint of indignation.

"She's right, pal. There are plenty of women around here that are quite marriageable."

"I don't doubt it, sir," I replied. "Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to see a tailor about some suits."

The family bid me farewell, and I never felt so relieved.

**AAA**

"Daddy, where's Arthur?"

Madeline didn't hesitate to inquire the book elf's whereabouts as soon as we stepped into the house. When Arthur didn't greet her right away, she knew he wasn't at home waiting for her. That wasn't what usually happened since my lover enjoyed spoiling her as much as he did making my life hell. He'd be in the kitchen scavenging for sweets that were the least scorched (our trysts often interfered with his baking, resulting in inedible char and a kitchen at risk of burning to the ground).

"He's always here to ask me about my day," she added with an exasperated huff. Her mouth was set in a pout now.

My daughter didn't care for the simple truth that he was at the bookshop. She continued to press the subject with a pointed "why?". I didn't know what to say. It was true that Arthur spent most of his time with us since book selling wasn't a job with the highest demand around here, but I couldn't give her an excuse she'd believe. Even a seven year old could see right through me.

"Arthur can't always be with us, sweetheart," I answered.

"Why?"

"Well... he's an adult - with responsibilities."

"Why?"

"He has the store," I began. "Arthur needs to take care of it. So he can't be with us right now."

"Why not?"

I stared, dumbfounded, at Maddie, just realizing we were caught in the infamous loop of "why" and "why not" and stopped to think. This time I wasn't going to be bested by a little girl.

"I have a present for you."

Madeline's eyes lit up and she cracked a bashful smile. She would never tell me that she liked being spoiled, but I knew better than to assume otherwise. Arthur's presence assured my daughter was always treated like royalty without exception. If I so much as brought up the subject, he would scold me as though I were the child, and a naughty one at that. So long as she behaves like a princess, she'll be treated like one, Mr. Jones, he'd snap. I could have sworn Madeline was his daughter, and she accepted Arthur into our life as a second father.

"Okay, I lied. There is a present, and it is for you, but it's from Arthur, and I forgot to pick it up from the shop today." That is all Maddie needed to hear to start begging for Arthur. "Ah, ah, ah! Schoolwork first, bookshop later."

"But, Daddy -" Even when she argued, Madeline was quiet and sweet.

"We have to get things done around here first and then if we have time, we'll go see Arthur. Deal?"

I knew that between getting homework done, dinner eaten, and preparing for the next day, we wouldn't have time to visit Arthur before the hour became too late. Even this little trick made me feel terribly guilty. Knowing how much Madeline loved Arthur, I shouldn't be lying to her about things such as this. She was such a sweet girl and did not deserve the turmoil I unknowingly brought into our relationship with the shop owner. I began to wonder if I could fix the damage that had already been done. Arthur didn't seem the type to forgive easily, even for minor offenses, so I had my work cut out for me. There was no other option, however. I had to correct my error so that the angry book elf would remain a part of our lives.

_Tomorrow_, I thought as I lay down to sleep. I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to fix this mess in the morning and planned to stick to my word.

**AAA**

He came into my room in the middle of the night. I don't know when it was or why he decided that this was the right time, but then again, I didn't really know Arthur. When we first met, I thought he was the most practical man I'd ever known. As time went on, I began to notice that he did some odd things that were very out of character but somehow still made sense. Arthur Kirkland was the inverse of a tornado; calm on the outside with a raging, unpredictable tempest within.

Neither of us spoke. Perhaps I should have asked how he made it through the house without waking either Madeline or myself. It hardly mattered. He simply climbed under the comforter and snuggled into my side without a word, nor any indication that he was hysterical mere hours prior. Even though I was more than a tad concerned about Arthur, I felt immediately better when I had him in my arms. I knew that in the small hours of the night he would let me console him, but he would never let on as to what plagued his heart with so much sorrow. At this point, I didn't know if he would ever tell me, and I was okay with that.

I could not do much for Arthur when he began to cry and I knew that this was okay. It was different from what he'd done in the bookshop. This was a slow, gentle build up of emotion that almost voiced an apology. I assumed that it was for me. He didn't try to talk about it, and neither did I, and that worked well for us. Matthew had always joked that I was shit at reading others' emotions, but I was learning with Arthur.

A lot of things had changed within a short period of time, namely my entire outlook on life. Not even months ago, but weeks, I thought my life was over. I had no job, no house, and no family because of what I was. Maybe everyone was right, then. Being a homosexual only brought pain and suffering to the sinner and those closest to them. But now there was Arthur. He was my beacon in the night, the green light at the end of the dock that I looked to for guidance. Arthur was everything I could have ever dreamed of and more. He was a mean, grumpy sort of man that somehow made my life worth living.

I stroked Arthur's hair and listened to his breathing return to normal after he stopped crying. His fingers would move a bit every once in awhile as though he was reminding himself that I was still there with the touch of my skin. I could smell the smoke that lingered on his clothes from the cigarette he had while contemplating if he should risk coming over this late. We would discuss that later, along with the other chances he took tonight. For now, we would simply appreciate having someone to hold on a chilly night.

There were many things I wanted to say to him now that he was here, but had no words to express any of them. I couldn't sleep for fear of waking up to find him gone again, or worse, to discover that this reconciliation was merely a dream. He hadn't a single problem falling asleep with no explanation behind him arriving at such an hour or why we had fought earlier. For a long time, I laid awake in wonder, praying that somehow everything would turn out the way it ought to. Before I finally fell into a heavy sleep, I kissed the top of Arthur's head in hopes that it would grant him sweet dreams. He deserved all the happiness in the world, I thought.

And in that moment, I realized that I had fallen in love.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It's been an interesting few months, and I considered discontinuing all of my works, but I'm back now and ready to write as frequently as possible. I'm all booked up with classes for the next two years, so the most I'll be able to update is every few months. Time flies when you have no summer break.

cannoWrite: I was most definitely trying to give off that vibe and show how the nature of Alfred and Arthur's relationship is changing over time. Alfred is a very loving and compassionate person in his way, so I tried to stay true to that aspect of his character.

MoonlightScarlet: Thank you, but I am hardly a wonderful author! Enjoy this update and prepare to wait a while for the next. I'm sorry it takes so long.

Yishayzaccharo: This story is going to become even more heartbreaking and hopefully cute as well. Thank you for your compliments of my work. I put a lot (too much) effort into every piece I write.

Alfred Jones-Kirkland: You all are killing me with the compliments. (I crave validation, so please feel free to continue ;) ) Thank you so much!

Guest: I'm trying my best with the updates, but I hope it's worth the wait. I'm glad you all like what I'm doing.

Soph: Madeline is seven years old. It's okay if you missed that. :) I can't believe you love my story. That's so weird to me, in a good way.

* * *

><p>"What they don't tell you about…"<p>

I always hated the end of sentences that started off this way. For one, the person is in a position of self-proclaimed authority, on the grounds that they are an expert on whatever it is that follows, and you know absolutely nothing about it. Of course, you are the supreme being with knowledge of all things disastrous. I _hated _it.

How could they assume that they know what I have seen, done, and been through, and then make the judgment that they know more than me? Second, who even are "they"? If _They_ are the ones that give advice before asking if I need it, talk over my grief about theirs, and stick their noses in places _They _don't belong; then _They_ are just like you.

What they don't tell you about losing someone is how everything, and I mean _everything_, makes it worse. When you make a mistake, there is no possible way to cope with it. You slump in your seat or slam your forehead against a wall, and can only pray a miracle happens. _Please make the pain go away. I can't function anymore._ Eventually, you'll get out and follow the motions to fix what was broken. It takes every ounce of your energy, but you manage. We all manage the best we can.

The part they don't tell you is that lying in a soft, warm bed is equally as torturous. Just when you think you're finally able to relax for a moment, you let your guard down for mere seconds. That's all it takes. All of life's events that served to distract you from the loss, even if only a little, are forgotten. You look over at the empty space your loved one used to occupy, and you're struck dumb. That is when the agony hits you like a train.

I miss Matthew every day, but not like that. We weren't that close anymore right before he died, so it felt like I lost an old friend, and I had. Thinking about him was only hard now when I wondered how Madeline would carry on without her father. Even if I told her the truth, she hadn't known him all that long. It wouldn't make much of a difference in her life except for the fact I had been lying to her for so many years. She luckily wouldn't miss Matthew like that either, even if I did tell her.

Honestly, I don't recall ever having a pain so intense that I felt that way up until _He_ betrayed me. I can only look back now and describe how it must have felt to be Arthur. How much worse his suffering had to have been than my own. He was not so lucky as I was. What _They_ didn't tell him is that his life was going to be a series of painful events that would only cause heartache. He didn't say any of that to me, but I wasn't as bad at reading people's emotions as everyone thought I was.

Up until I met Arthur, I thought I would never recover from what _He_ did to me. It was several months after the fact, but I still don't know if I can forgive him. I do not even say his name. Now, _He_ is no more than a shadow in the back of my mind, though the betrayal will follow me for the rest of my life. Luckily, it hasn't turned out quite as badly as I thought it would. That I also have Arthur to thank for.

Back in good old New York, New York, I was living the life I had always dreamed of. I had Madeline, a decent apartment, and a job I loved. It was everything my father said I could never have because I was queer. And on top of it all, I had a loving, gorgeous boyfriend that I planned on spending the rest of my life with. At the time, though out of reach, it was something I longed for more than anything else.

He worked in the same department as I did. I'd first noticed him when he walked by my desk the day he transferred. His ass was exactly the sign from God I needed to confirm that, yes, I may have fucked several men before, but I was definitely gay as they came. I couldn't complain about his chiseled jawline, slicked back jet black hair, or chocolate brown eyes either. He was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen. I made sure we became quick friends in hopes of something exciting developing.

Over time, I began to sense that some of our friendly banter was more than just that. His eyes would linger, handshakes lasted a bit too long, and he went out of his way to work next to me whenever he could. I had a small crush on him by quarter's end and wanted to fuck him senseless more than anything else. The feeling was entirely mutual. After a few drinks with the boys at the local bar one night, he and I did a little "work" back at my place. It was downhill from there.

I remembered how giddy he made me feel. My mother had described the feeling to me when I was still a boy. She said I'd meet a nice girl, want to take her out on dates, and marry her after high school. None of that ever happened, but Matthew followed suit like they wanted. My father said I was too picky ever to settle down. Mother liked that I wouldn't settle for "less than I deserved". If that were true, I would've married any girl that showed interest in me. They were all very fine young ladies.

It wasn't two weeks before I confessed I loved him. For once in my life, I finally felt like everyone said I would have one day. No, it wasn't the classic 50s love story I was expected to have, but I thought it was perfect. He made me believe that he thought so too. I was in love with someone for the first time, and it couldn't have felt better.

Our tryst went on for several months. Madeline hadn't a clue as I expected she did with Arthur. He was my best-kept secret. It wasn't safe for anyone to know, not even the only queer friends I had. For my daughter, I was careful as could be. Like everything else in my life, it all went wrong just as I started to think I could be happy in the long-term.

He betrayed me to save his own ass. I wish I could say I was surprised, but I knew he couldn't handle the consequences if anyone found out. Our coworkers noticed that the two of us were a little closer than we should have been and took it upon themselves to learn the truth. They confronted him first. He was the obvious choice. The handsome, slightly effeminate ones were always the first to be found out.

I really didn't want him to be hurt. I loved him almost as much as my own child. But what he did is and always will be unforgivable. Instead of taking the beatings and getting the hell out of town, he convinced them that I forced myself on him repeatedly. The only reason he acted so kindly toward me was in hope of receiving gentle treatment. Now it was bad enough being homosexual, but these fellows weren't about to let a gay _rapist_ get off so easy.

It wasn't long before they showed up at my door. They looked angry, but they were my friends, so I trusted them. Two barged in without warning, and each twisted an arm behind my back. The third and forth took turns socking me in the gut until I was nearly spitting up blood. One of them threw a few jabs at my face that fractured my jaw. I didn't know what was going on. Earlier that day we were enjoying martinis on our lunch hour.

They shoved me to the ground and started to kick me one by one. Everything hurt so badly I thought I had to black out at some point. I wasn't so lucky.

"Fucking queer shitbag," one quipped, spitting on me.

I looked up at him and wondered how he discovered my secret.

"You thought we wouldn't find out eventually, fairy? You made it so obvious." Another kicked my chest, effectively knocking the wind out of me."The way you looked at him… Fucking disgusting."

There was no calling for help, even if I could breathe. Homosexual acts were still criminal offences at the time, so if the police were called, I'd be thrown in prison. I couldn't do that to Madeline. She'd be sent to live with my parents and there's a reason she was placed in my care instead of theirs. I had to bear the pain if there was any hope of seeing my daughter again.

It felt like I spent an eternity on the ground as their assault continued. The whole while they told me what he had said about our love affair and my heart broke along with my body. My entire face pulsated and began to swell where they slugged me, which was nearly everywhere at this point. Hot tears sprung from my swollen, bruised eyelids. I spit a decent bit of blood when another kick to the chest rendered me breathless once again. Later I would worry whether I still had all my teeth.

"Fucking. Faggots!" I earned a blow to the face after each word.

This time his foot connected with my nose in the precisely wrong way. An audible sound told me it was broken, though I could have guessed that from the sheer amount of pain. I could only whimper, still recovering my breath from before. I went still. And for a moment, there was silence.

"Oh fuck... Danny," someone whispered. "I think he's dead."

"Fucking Christ, let's get out of here."

For my life, I remained as still as humanly possible. They didn't bother to check if I was dead yet and bolted out the front door without another word. I knew they wouldn't be charged with a crime even if they had murdered me. All they would have to do is fabricate some story about how I leered at their sons, perhaps touched them in any way, and the police would sweep it all under the rug. Even as a victim, I would be condemned as the most vile of villains. If I survived, I would have to run far away and never look back, as an urban outlaw.

The injuries they caused were far less damaging than what I felt inside. Had my ribs not been bruised in several places, I might have been able to identify where exactly I felt his betrayal. In the aftermath of the attack, I could only think about why he did this to me. He knew how desperately and truly I loved him. How could he hurt me like this?

I laid sprawled out on the ground for a long while. Nothing seemed worth the effort it would take to pick myself up and put my life into order. Having my friends beat the living shit out of me made me realize New York wasn't the place for us. There were too many people and all of them too nosy for their own good. In that case, we would move far away, to a place where everyone minded their own damn business; a quiet little town with a name no one had ever heard of. So that's what we did.

I missed him everyday. It had been months since I last saw him and I knew that I loved him regardless of everything he put me through. He stole my heart and shattered it into a million pieces, yet it still belonged to him. I begged and bargained with myself to take it back. I didn't want to feel this pain anymore. _If you can just _please _move on_, I'd say, _I'll be a better man. _To take it all away, I was willing to say anything. That is how badly it hurt.

Even though an outsider would have thought I was an idiot for loving him, I tried my hardest not to. I reminded myself of all the things he did that I didn't like, or the times he made me feel like less of a man. He wasn't perfect. I'd tell myself that over and over again. I already knew that much. Being with him didn't make me blind to his imperfections. It was easier to overlook them at times than it would have been had we not been dating, but I was fully aware that he wasn't even close to perfect.

While I loved him still, I was no longer in love with him. Had someone told me this before everything happened, I wouldn't have understood there was a difference. It was true, though. I couldn't help loving him as my lover and best friend, but I could never be in love with someone who treated me so cruelly. I could never feel anything other than disdain over anything else for someone who could betray my trust in such a way. I could never wish for a future with someone who broke my heart without second thought. More importantly that all of that, I could never forgive someone that put my daughter in danger.

Since I had met Arthur, something strange began to happen, though. Sometimes a thought would appear out of nowhere - something _he_ used to say, or how he'd roll his eyes in that way- and I felt nothing at all. It felt like I _ought to _feel something, but I didn't. There were days two months ago that these thoughts would be like a punch in the gut and they'd wrench the breath right out of me so I was left suffocating on a memory of what used to be. Now… I felt free. I loved him, but it no longer hurt as it did before. For the first time, I felt as though losing him was the best thing to ever happen to me. If I didn't feel the pain anymore, that meant I survived and had moved on. I was stronger for it.

Funny, wasn't it, that I almost wanted to thank him? Had he not broken my heart, I wouldn't have become the same person I did nor been in the same place I was now. He said he didn't want it to be this way, and I knew he meant that much, but I wish he could see me now that I survived his betrayal. When he promised it was better for us to be apart, I called him a liar. That couldn't possibly be true when my insides were being torn to shreds and I felt as though I'd rather die than be without him. I wish I could call him up this second and tell him just how right he was. I thought I needed him and I was wrong.

_I don't need you_.

That is what I would tell him in my mind. I had this fantasy about saying it to his face and watching his expression change from that somber mask into one of realization. He got off on knowing that I thought I needed him. It made him feel important, even if he didn't reciprocate the feeling. If I announced my change of heart to him, I'm positive it would crush his spirit. Had I been a less honorable man, I would do exactly that. To be fair, he did almost get me beat to death by my own friends. This would be merciful compared to the things I concocted in nightmares.

I would never do that, however.

I had to know what was going on with Arthur. He was too important to me to let him suffer alone. Maybe I could help him in some way, any way. It was foolish to assume I could for sure. His pain I knew on a deeply personal level, but I was able to hide mine fairly well, so I knew he had to have been through far worse than I had.

The next morning, I woke with the determination to ask Arthur the question that had been burning in my mind since we met. I knew he was awake, so I kissed the top of his head and wished him a good morning. He stirred at my gentle touch, startled to find I had awoken without his knowledge. When he rolled over, my heart sank a little deeper into my stomach.

His eyes were bloodshot like he'd been crying for several hours. I wondered how long he'd been up. He took in a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself. The corner of his lip turned up a bit, but not to make a smile. I hated to see him like this. It physically pained me to watch him cover everything up like it never happened. He could trust me with the truth. I think that is why he turned to face me instead of hiding his tears.

"We need to talk about it," I said softly, stroking his hair.

It was not the tender suggestion I had made it sound to be, but a sympathetic demand. Arthur understood this. He wasn't the sort to talk things through from what I'd known. I would not give him a choice this time. Obviously keeping this secret locked up was doing more harm than anything. If he would just _tell me_, I would understand why he acts the way he does and possibly have some solution for what caused him so much distress.

"Would you make me tell you, even if I truly did not want to?"

I waited a moment before responding. "I want you to want to tell me. Communication is important."

Arthur considered this yet said nothing. I didn't have the time to become cross as he nuzzled his face against my neck and began to weep, clutching onto me with what little strength he had left. He so often seemed such a tough individual that I forgot how fragile he could be. It reminded me of when I lay broken, in more ways than one, on my apartment floor. I remembered how the pain sapped all of my energy and will to live. Arthur may have seemed weak in that moment, but he was stronger than anyone I'd ever known.

Though I had hoped he would confide in me, I knew I couldn't possibly make him do so. This was something he'd have to do on his own. I knew that by letting me see him break down like this, Arthur was giving me the opportunity to prove I was worthy of knowing the truth. He continued to give me pieces of his vulnerability, one by one, and as I showed him compassion and understanding, he began to trust me more. In a strange way, I think that is what all relationships are about.

I was never one to be strong in a relationship. Most of my encounters were fleeting trysts at best, and my one true experience ended in tragedy and myself alone reduced to tears. This was all new to me. For Arthur's sake, I'd have to learn to care for another's emotional well-being instead of my own. I was more than happy to do this for him but I didn't know where to start. Was it better for me to urge him to talk about it? How do I comfort him properly? Does he want me to lay here only to hold him while he cries? I was lost beyond measure. Mother didn't prepare me for this.

It was not too long before he tired himself out and was nearly drifting off to sleep once more. "It's time to take Madeline to school," he reminded me with an inaudible yawn. His eyes were closed like he was already asleep.

"You're right. Just go back to bed, Arthur, and I'll be home soon."

His eyes snapped open as though I said something to upset him. When I asked him about it, Arthur brushed it off as nothing. I knew better than to believe him, but allowed it to go unchecked this time. _Small steps_, I told myself. We were making progress and it would take time to uncover all there was to know about the enigmatic book elf. He kissed me a brief goodbye with a hand fisting my hair. If it were up to me, I'd never let him go.


End file.
